Migraine
by gater62
Summary: After returning from MIA, Carter suffers from inexplicable headaches. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_Written for Shipsgiving at the S/J ShipFamily Thread at GW (though there is no mention of Thanksgiving, sorry!) Special thanks to Mara for her editing skills and support!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own them, yada yada._

Migraine

Chapter 1

It was so cold. The radiating chill from the smooth metallic walls and floor permeated her skin. She tried rubbing her arms and legs to generate some body heat, but the movement only served to accentuate the dull throbbing pain in her head. She leaned against the hard wall and tried to will the pain and cold away. At least the cool surface felt good on her pounding head. She pressed her cheek against it and ran her hands over it. She again found the control panel, trying not to think of what it meant. Sliding her fingers into the cracks, she pulled it open. _Don't think, don't think_, she chanted to herself. Ignoring the increasing crescendo in her skull, she reached in and pulled out the shelf that held the array of crystals. Gasping aloud as the pain began to pummel her brain, she tried to reach for the crystal that would release the door. Immediately her head exploded into blinding pain! She slid to the floor clutching her head. She lay against the wall, her anguished sobs the only sounds in the dark. After a while the agony ebbed to more manageable levels.

Had it always been this way? She couldn't remember anything other than being cold and in pain. At times it was unbearable, agony; at other times it was only a dull ache. It was unceasing - pervading her very soul.

Sometimes, when the pain was duller, not so sharp, she could remember other things-like a pair of warm, brown eyes. These eyes would stare at her, insistent about something she couldn't understand. "What?" she would beg those eyes. "What do you want me to do?" The eyes never answered, just became more intense. If she thought too hard about what they wanted, the pain would increase until she was sobbing in agony. She had ignored how disappointed they had seemed. Now they no longer visited her and she longed for their warmth.

She didn't know how long she was there on the floor. The chill seeped into her skin, leaving her teeth chattering. Even that was enough to set her head pulsing. She curled up into a tight ball, trying to warm herself, trying to ease the torment in her head.

She whimpered. The floor and walls had begun to vibrate. It shook her bones; it increased the dull ache in her head. She tried to tighten further to shield herself from the tremors. Bright light surrounded her, making spots appear through her tightly closed eyelids. They increased in intensity, making her gasp aloud.

"Carter."

She didn't understand the voice-it simply pounded miserably throughout her skull. She clenched her eyes closed and wrapped her arms around her head, trying to block the noise. If she could block out the noise, maybe the ache would not develop into blinding agony.

"Carter." The voice came at her more urgently. Hands gripped her face. She tried to swipe them away, but her head hurt too much to make more than a feeble attempt. Didn't the voice know how much that hurt? The insistent hand patted her cheeks which only served to exacerbate the pain. "Come on, you've got to wake up. If not, I'll have to carry you and we all know how much you hate playing the damsel in distress."

She groaned as nausea overwhelmed her. "Hey! The joke's not that bad." She heard a tremble in the voice. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn't make it out. It made her want to explain it wasn't the joke but the noise - the clamor it created in her brain - but the sudden sharp agony in her head wouldn't let her. Instead she rolled away from the voice and tried to empty her stomach. Of course there was nothing there; there hadn't been for a while.

"Come on, Carter, we've got to go. You can throw up later." Those insistent hands reached around her and pulled her up off the cold floor. She felt her arms instinctively reach around his neck. She turned her head into his shoulder and breathed in. The smell was so familiar, so comforting; it made her feel so safe. Had she ever been safe? She couldn't remember. Without understanding why, she sighed the word sir into his neck. The arms around her tightened.

She could feel his heat as they moved. When was the last time she felt this warm? She couldn't remember. She pressed her face into his shoulder trying to draw out his warmth. Her eyes, she kept tightly shut. If she opened them, perhaps the heat would disappear and she would be back alone in the cold. She wouldn't be able take that any more. A small sob escaped.

Something soft brushed her forehead. "We're almost to the Stargate." This time the voice was soft, gentle. She almost wept in relief.

Stargate? Symbols and numbers flashed through her mind and then the pain burst between her eyes eliciting an anguished moan. She didn't think it was possible, but the arms pulled her in closer. She immediately pushed the symbols out of her consciousness and the ache receded, just a bit, but any relief was welcome. As the warmth of his body engulfed her, she allowed herself to fade into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

_A huge thank you again to the lovely Mara for her beta skills!_

Migraine

Chapter 2

Warm. She sighed softly. Even the dull thud in her head couldn't stop the tiny glow of contentment that sparked within her. Softness surrounded her, blanketing her in warmth and comfort. She took a moment to relish in the enjoyable tactile sensations of her bed. She was no longer in the cell. She was sure of that. For the first time in ages she allowed herself to feel just a bit secure. Prison would not have the warm hands that brushed back the hair that was tickling her nose. Nor the strong hands that would occasionally squeeze her own reassuringly though she was too tired to squeeze back.

She slowly began to become aware of her surroundings. There was an incessant beeping in the background which kept time with the thudding in her head. Wires engulfed her. She could see the glow of monitors beside her. Numbers flashed across the screen, beating into her head. The feel of needles pricking raced across her right arm. Panic began to edge her consciousness. The beeping increased in speed and volume, banging a rhythm that increased the pounding in her mind.

A panicked voice called out, "Doctor!"

The noise and lights surrounded her, intensifying the pain.

"No signs of physical trauma."

Why were they yelling? She wanted to beg them to be quiet, to stop yelling. She opened her mouth, but only a whimper came out.

"Sam, honey, you're safe. You're in the infirmary."

The voice was calm, soothing. She tried to relax into the warmth, and the pounding pain began to retreat at least a little.

Soft hands swept across her body.

"Where are you hurt, Sam?"

"Head. Hurts." She collapsed within herself at the effort it took to throw out those words. She was unaware of the flurry of activity that surrounded her as she sank deeper into unconsciousness.

The next time she awoke, the lights were dimmed and the aggravating beeps were gone. She blinked a few times, testing the throbbing pain in the back of her head. It was still there, but it was almost as if it had faded into the background. She decided to test the limits of her pain threshold. How far could she go this time before the throbbing escalated into agony? This was a continual battle, but one she knew she could never give up. She knew it was important-to beat this pain, but she couldn't remember why.

This time she blinked, trying to bring the room into focus. It was a bit blurry, but she could make out gray walls, wires, monitors. She made herself quickly slide past those as the throbbing began to increase. _Don't look!_ _Don't think about it!_ She felt the pain recede. She sighed and lifted her hand to rub the side of her head.

"Carter."

The voice conveyed warmth and affection in that single word. She turned toward it and tiredly opened her eyes once again. Not far from her were the intense brown eyes she remembered from the dark gazing at her. She quickly closed her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment she knew she'd find. Wasn't that the way it always turned out? She couldn't work past the pain, so the eyes would frown their displeasure. She knew she failed them somehow. She tried to ignore the frustrated sigh that came out beside her.

"Hey Sam. How're you feeling?"

She turned to the opposite voice, blinking in confusion. Another one? She thought about it, wondering why this voice cared.

"Not sure," she finally whispered.

The voice continued gently, "Can you tell us what happened?"

She didn't want to think, to remember. Not now. Keep the pain at bay.

"No."

She closed her eyes and hoped they would stop talking. She allowed herself to drift to sleep. It seemed the safest thing to do.

When she awoke, she could hear whispered voices floating over her bed. It took a moment before she realized that the voices were not pounding inside her head. The throbbing pain in her mind held steady, but it was not intensifying. Deciding to risk the chance of pain, she tried to tune in on the lowered conversation being held around her. Words such as "ribbon device" and "brain damage" drifted back and forth. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt herself weep.

_I'm going to be gone for the rest of the week without access to my computer. I will try to update as soon as I can. Thank you for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry for the long time between updates! No high speed internet at the ranch-it was pure torture as I couldn't keep up with the fics I'm reading! I don't own anything Stargate related-yada, yada. Again a huge thank you to Mara for her outstanding editing skills! She's the best!**_

Migraine

Chapter 3

A thick fog permeated her mind. The faces around her remained blurry, shrouded in shadows. They felt and sounded familiar, but the more she tried to discern who they were, the more they slipped away. Her frustration was growing, exacerbating the pain in her head. But now, when the headaches would intensify, the fog would roll in, blanketing her pain. The mist dulled her pain, but it also dulled her thinking.

The eyes were back. She tried to avoid them, quickly closing her eyes and turning away whenever they appeared. She didn't need their condemnation; didn't they realize she had already condemned herself when she couldn't save herself?

But this time the eyes refused to leave her alone. Finally she turned to them, wanting to scream at them to leave! She didn't want them here watching her fail! But the eyes gazed at her warmly, no sign of hardness or disappointment. She wanted to lose herself in those eyes-maybe there she would be able to find her way out of the mist.

As she struggled through the pain and fog, the only constant from which she was able to draw strength were the soft brown eyes that remained by her side. They pierced the haze and radiated something indefinable. She couldn't really be sure she wasn't just dreaming them, but she grasped at the security they offered. The confidence in those eyes gave her the strength to know that she could break out of the mist that clouded her thoughts. She drew comfort from that gaze and tried to clear her mind.

She blinked carefully, trying not to move too quickly. The lighting was dim, only a soft glow emitting from somewhere overhead. She slowly turned trying to observe her surroundings. Layers of white seemed to float around her. A frown creased her brow. The place felt familiar. A part of her recognized the smell of antiseptic that hung in the air. Though those smells did not arouse a sense of danger, she found them disturbing nevertheless.

In her observations, she caught sight of a lanky frame hunkered to her right. She curled over on her side and tried to focus on the figure in the chair. His chin was resting on his chest, tipped to the left. She could make out silver glinting in his hair. He was so familiar, his identity just on the edge of her consciousness. Her head started to throb, but she pushed at it until she was able to croak out, "Sir?"

Was that a name? She wasn't sure, but she knew intuitively it was him.

His head instantly shot up. Brown eyes blinked in confusion. "Carter?"

His eyes were worried, tense. He looked so tired. She wanted to erase the tension from his face. She tried to smile at him, but the throbbing began in earnest. Was he real? She needed the assurance he was really there. She tentatively reached out and softly touched his arm. Warm brown eyes gazed tenderly at her, despite the strain. In that moment she knew she was safe. These were the same brown eyes that had been by her side as she worked her way through the fog. The relief was palpable and the pain in her head retreated to a dull thud.

"Welcome back."

A hand reached out toward her face, but fell abruptly at his side. A wave of disappointment washed over her.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Home?" The mist still floated around in patches through her skull.

He smiled. "For you, maybe. I don't think you ever leave your lab or the base. Well, not for long anyway. Look, let me get ole Doc Frasier. She wanted to check you out as soon as you woke up."

He grinned at her to let her know that it would be okay. The affectionate twinkle in his eyes made her believe it.

The tiny woman, referred to as ole Doc Frasier, poked, prodded, and listened intently to various parts of her body. She followed the tiny redhead with her eyes throughout the examination, trying to remember the connection between them. She knew there was one; she could feel it. She just couldn't make it out; it was like she was looking through mirrors in a funhouse that distorted all her thoughts.

"Sam, do you remember what happened to you?"

The question might have been harmless, but the throbbing in her head increased slightly. She tried to actively search her memories; it was important to remember. She pressed her hand against the side of her head, massaging her temple. She could feel their stares burrowing into her. The more she probed her memory, the more her head hurt. A faint line of perspiration broke out across her brow. The only thing she could remember was burning agony. The nausea threatened to overwhelm her. A strong hand grasped her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Carter?"

She grasped at that worried voice and pulled herself out of the void into which she was falling. She drew a hand across her mouth.

"No, I can't. It makes my head hurt."

She didn't see the worried looks exchanged between the two officers.

"Sam, we're going to have to run some specialized tests. We believe you experienced long-term exposure to a ribbon device. We need to know what we're dealing with here so we can help you."

She felt tears well up in her eyes. What if they couldn't help her? What if the agonizing headaches returned? Her head began to pound and her vision blurred. She curled onto her side and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I'd like to thank you all for the very kind reviews you all have sent me. It is so encouraging to a new author! **_

_**A colossal thank you to the wonderful Mara and her editing skills. Mara-you're the best!**_

_**I don't own them-what else is new?**_

Migraine

Chapter 4

His strong arms picked her up and drew her in tightly. Almost immediately she was gently laid upon another soft surface. She curled up onto her side and clutched at the sheet beneath her, wishing it was his hand she was grasping. The bed began to roll, and the resulting vibration clattered in her head. She tucked her chin into her chest and tried to pull her head into her shoulders in an effort to protect it from the noise around her. She didn't want the pain to escalate.

Hands reached out and unrolled her body. She squinted, trying to determine what they were doing to her. The lights above her flashed, resulting in tiny explosions behind her eyes. Straps wrapped around her body and head and she felt her heart begin to speed. What was happening? She heard the startup of a machine. The sounds encircled her! She pried her eyes open and saw a metal ring moving up and over her. The whirring and clicking sounds of the machine triggered pictures of strange symbols in her mind. Her breath came out in little gasps as she struggled to make sense of this strange information. An image of a blue pool of water shooting out of a metal ring flashed in her mind. Panic set in. She had to get out of here-the event horizon would form right on top of her!

"Colonel! The Stargate is activating! I can't move!"

Agony exploded in her mind! The pain she had before was nothing compared to this moment. She screamed. She couldn't help it. The symbols flashed through her mind, each one pummeling her brain into mush. These bizarre signs were connected to the screaming headache that now threatened what was left of her sanity.

When the sounds stopped, so did the flashing of the symbols. She felt herself yanked backwards and the straps released. She was sobbing in anguish, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this made her look weak. She didn't want him to see her this way and tried to hold in the sobs, but she couldn't do it. The blinding pain was overwhelming her soul.

She floundered, trying to fight against the stabbing pain. It was too much!

"Sam!"

"Carter!"

Two voices called to her as one. She felt something pinch her right arm and something cool enter the top of her left hand. She was pushed over onto her left side. The pain retreated slowly as the fog rolled in. This time she welcomed the cool misty relief when it came. Two dark figures hovered over her, talking in low soothing tones. She floated in a mental stupor as she felt herself moving along the corridors. Nothing was in focus.

"Carter, we're gonna find out what's causing this, but you've gotta hang on. You've gotta fight this!"

She turned towards the voice and focused on it. It was ferociously determined. His eyes glinted fiercely in the dim lighting. Yes, she would hang on. How could she not, with those eyes ordering her to? Unconsciously she stretched out her hand toward them. She felt the warmth of his skin and hesitantly trailed her fingers over his brow. A large hand covered her own and held her fingers in place.

"I'm here, Sam, and I'm not leaving."

For the first time in a long time, she was sure she was home.


	5. Chapter 5

Migraine

Chapter 5

She sat on the bed idly picking at her breakfast tray. Nothing had any taste, and quite frankly, it didn't smell very good either. She resisted the urge to dump the tray and its contents onto the floor. Instead she furiously jabbed the fork repeatedly into the eggs. She just wanted the hell out of this place. She was sick of it all–sick of being stuck in this room, sick of not having her memory, sick of these damn headaches. She wanted to let out a loud, frustrated scream.

Instead, she sighed and pushed aside the tray, perhaps a little harder than she intended. The juice went sloshing over the table and she refused to feel guilty about the mess she just made. That lasted for maybe a minute. She picked up a napkin and gingerly dabbed at the mess. If only her life could be cleaned up so easily.

The doctor…Janet…said while the length of her memory loss was unusual, it was not unheard of. Post concussive syndrome is what she had called it. It was still possible that her brain might work through and heal itself of the concussions she had sustained during her imprisonment, but it might not.

She pulled up her knees, wrapped her arms around her legs, and leaned her forehead against them. Everything was tantalizingly familiar; there was something still there, she just knew it. For instance, she knew she was in a secret military base. An ironic voice tried to state maybe her clue was the military uniforms and insignia that she saw the doctors and nurses wearing or even the guards with guns. She shook her head, ignoring that voice. If she could just connect the dots, maybe her memories would return? Not for the first time, an icy hand clutched her heart. What would she do if they didn't? It was just so damn frustrating. Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes. She blinked furiously. She refused to cry about this anymore.

At the moment the pain in her head had receded to a quiet thud. Irritating, but manageable. The pain medications Janet had been giving finally seemed to be doing their job. She bit at her lower lip. Maybe she should just be thankful something was going right in her treatments.

There was a quiet knock at the door. She rubbed her eyes A young man with bright blue eyes peered from behind the door. "May I come in?"

She looked hopefully over his shoulders, seeking a pair of twinkling brown eyes. They were not there. She felt a stab of disappointment and suppressed a sigh. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Of course." She waved him in.

The young man stepped in and quietly closed the door. She gave him a wan smile. He grinned back at her.

"How're you doing?"

"I'm doing better." This was true. She might even classify her headache as background noise for the moment.

He glanced at her barely picked at breakfast tray. He raised an eyebrow at the jumbled contents and plopped in a chair. "Janet will have your head if she sees that you're not eating better than that."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've got to eat."

She raised an eyebrow back at him.

"She won't like it. Jack won't either, you know. You've got to regain your strength."

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and glanced away. An image of brown eyes admonishing her made her feel slightly guilty. She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled at its edge. She ignored his sly grin.

"Has Janet said when she'd release you?"

She shook her head. "The doctor..." she hesitated. "Janet said not before the CAT scans show the swelling has gone completely."

They sat in a comfortable silence. He…Daniel…was a comfort. She might not remember the details of who he was, but she remembered he was part of her family. She could feel sisterly affection welling up within her when she glanced his way.

"Could you do me a favor?" She didn't wait for a response. "Would you bring me something that's mine? Or something that's important to who I am? It might help me remember."

"I don't know, Sam…" he began. He paused at the pleading look in her eyes. "Okay. I'll see what I can do. But I don't want to jeopardize your recovery. What if it's too stressful and you relapse? You know, Janet said bed rest was the key to your recovery, however distasteful you might find it."

She pursed her lips. "I want my life back. I want to do what it's going to take to get it."

He looked at her doubtfully. "Maybe we should check with Janet before…"

This time she groaned aloud. "Oh, for cryin' out loud! Just bring me something, okay?"

He blinked at her. "What was that?"

"What?"

He stared at her for a moment. She did not look away. After a moment, he shrugged. "I'll try," he promised.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out; it's getting harder to find the time to actually do some writing. I didn't think it would be this long! A huge thank you goes to my lovely editor Mara for her fantastic insight. With vacation just around the corner, I hope to spend a lot more time on the story._

Migraine

Chapter 6

The petite redhead breezed into the isolation room, practically dragging a reluctant companion with her. He was positively exuding guilt and he hovered near the doorway. She scowled at both of them, but especially at the young man with glasses who refused to meet her eyes.

The diminutive doctor made her way to the bed and reached for her wrist. She had to restrain herself from yanking her arm away.

"Daniel says you want something to force open your memories," the doctor declared after a few seconds.

The young man protested, never leaving the door. "I didn't say force."

"But that's what you want to try, isn't it, Sam?"

She sat there silently, staring at the sheets that covered her legs. There was a minute thudding echoing in her head.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Sam. You were put through some very traumatic events that may or may not have induced your memory loss. It may very well be a result of the frequent swelling your brain went through during torture. Trying to force the memories may bring on another severe migraine. The last time, your blood pressure went through the roof and there was a real risk of a stroke."

She looked up at the doctor with pleading eyes. "I just want to get out of here."

The doctor gazed at her sympathetically. "I know. But you still need bed rest."

"No, I need out of this place!" She could feel her voice rising, but she couldn't stop herself. "You won't let me leave; you've got me trapped in here! Am I a prisoner?"

She could feel herself shaking. Was that it? A prison? She searched her mind, but it was blank. She found herself engulfed in a soft embrace. Tears leaked as the doctor tried to sooth her.

"Of course you're not a prisoner! We just don't want to take any risks with your health. We are doing everything we can to make sure you get better."

Daniel joined them at the bed and gripped her shoulder. "Janet's right, Sam. Your memories will return and you'll be out of bed in no time."

"Now try to get some rest," Janet pleaded. "Would you like something to help you sleep?"

She shook her head.

They quietly left the room. She was alone. Again. The lights had been turned down as they walked out, leaving the room swathed in shadows. She shivered, a faint memory of cold and pain floating over her. The walls of her room seemed to be closing in, making her feel tense, on edge.

She lay back against her pillows and began to massage her temples. The continual thuds that had remained miniscule during the brief time her visitors had been with her were now slowly escalating. This wasn't so bad-at least not yet. When _they_ were with her, the pain was not so pronounced. Their presence gave her a sense of calm, a refuge from the agony of her cold, dark cell. Their company was a soft, soothing glow that kept the dark pain from engulfing her. And the company of one set of chocolate brown eyes provided a particularly comforting shelter.

She needed those eyes now. She knew the others cared for her, but not the way he did. There was a promise in the looks he threw her way. That promise made her heart skip a beat whenever she remembered it. She gritted her teeth. At least this headache wasn't immediately overwhelming her. She reached for the nurse call button. She should call for pain medications. She should.

Still she hesitated. The medicines left her without control. They put her in a foggy state of existence, lulled her to sleep. What if the medications, while soothing the pain, were keeping her from regaining her memories? How could she get back what she had lost if she were to stay in a state in which she couldn't care?

She clutched her pillow and tried to will the headache away. _It's not so bad. I am stronger than this. I have to work past the pain. It's expected. _She bit at her lower lip, her arms crossed over her eyes. Those people told her she was strong, that she needed to fight this.

The thudding was slowly building into pounding. A new thought crept into her mind. This might be intentional. What if the doctor was trying to keep her from awaking from this nightmare? She gripped her head. No, the doctor wouldn't try to hide anything from her. She might not remember the specifics of who these people were, but they brought out feelings of warmth and affection. She couldn't feel this way for monsters that would try and hurt her.

But what if they were trying to protect her? The doctor had said that the ribbon device had damaged her brain in a way similar to severe concussive forces. What if the damage was so severe she would not recover? Would they tell her? Or would they hide it from her?

A deep gnawing pit began to grow in her stomach. If they were hiding something from her, she would have to do something about it herself. But what? She needed to get out of here. No answers would be found in this room. Now it was beginning to look more like a prison. She was feeling trapped. The pounding beat against the side of her head. She had to get out of here.

She pushed herself into a sitting position. The hammering, while beating a steady rhythm, at least didn't increase with her change in position. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and slipped to the floor. A wave of nausea swept over her. She gripped the side of the bed and tried to tamp down on the bile rising in her throat. She slowly made her way to the door.

She stared at the door, concentrating. A light sheen of sweat broke out, running down the back of her neck. She could do this. Focus. She turned the handle slowly, carefully. Cracking the door open just a sliver, she peaked down the hall. To her dismay, she could make out a young stranger in military garb. A weapon. He had a weapon strapped to his side. She slowly closed the door, without a sound. In utter despair she leaned her forehead against the door. She was a prisoner. It was all a lie.

She felt desperate tears pricking her eyes. Was she that gullible to allow a few kind words and warm looks to make her or lead her to believe she was safe? It just didn't make sense. Her gut told her to trust these people, but the guard certainly made her doubt her instincts. She had to get out of here and get some answers. It was the only way. She couldn't wait for them to return and lead her to believe more lies.

Turning around, she eyed her surroundings for a possible escape route. Her eyes caught sight of a ventilation register. She pulled the visitor chair over to the wall and climbed up. Desperately, she pried at the metal grate, trying to pull it from the duct. It ripped at her fingers, drawing blood. She turned around and leaned against the wall, trying to keep herself from screaming in frustration. There had to be a way to open it up. Her eyes caught sight of metal glinting on the side table. She could use her knife to pry open the metal.

Grabbing the knife from her breakfast tray, she made her way back to the register. She jabbed it between the wall and the grate, but it still refused to budge. She stopped herself from banging on the wall. No need to alert the guard as to what she was planning. A glimmer of a memory formed. The screws. The screws held the register in place. A wave of relief so intense swept over her, she almost lost her balance. Quickly, she used the knife to loosen and remove the screws. She crawled into the duct and began to scoot her way to freedom.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. School has been a hassle and then I was sick the first week of Christmas vacation. Now the hubby is sick. **_

_**I still don't own any of this, though I wish I did.**_

_**A special thanks to Mara for her editing and support and also to AstraperAspera for helping me out with this chapter. If you all like it, it's because of her wonderful suggestions!**_

Migraine

Chapter 7

She crawled through the duct, scooting along on her stomach. It was a tight squeeze, but she found she could manage. As long as she kept moving, concentrating on finding a way out of here, she would not have to think about the pounding in the back of her head. The throbbing was a constant companion which she was frantically trying to ignore.

It was so dark. She was looking for any glimpse of light. For the moment, she was simply feeling her way forward. No way of knowing where she was headed, just knowing she needed to get out of the prison in which she found herself__The guard she had seen at the door had confirmed her fear. How could they do this to her? They claimed to be her friends, yet their actions didn't match their words. Her only objective at that moment was to get out of there. She didn't know where she was going or how she would get there, but she couldn't stay in that cell, imprisoned and fed more lies.

She was definitely tiring. The cramped space was taking its toll on her back and she could feel muscles she never knew she had. Her confinement had made her weak, and she despaired of making it out of this prison complex. The thin clothing they had given provided little protection against the cool air and rough flooring of the airway shaft. Scratches were starting to appear on the heels of her hands and on her knees; her hands were beginning to sting. She stopped for a moment to wipe them down her sides and tried to catch her breath. Why had she been imprisoned? It didn't make any sense. They said they were her friends, but friends didn't lock one of their own away. Stifling the urge to shake her head, she bit at her lower lip. The answers would only be found outside of the prison. She needed to find a way home.

_He_ said she _was_ home. _He_ wouldn't lie to her. She was so confused. What the hell was happening to her? She just couldn't make the puzzle pieces fit, and it was killing her. She closed her eyes and wished his brown ones were beside her. Their intensity would give her the strength she needed to move on. She could almost see them, willing her forward, telling her to do whatever she could to save herself__

It was enough.

Time to move. She couldn't linger for too long. She needed to find a way out of these ducts. A fine layer of dust shifted as she made her way through the concrete tubing. Choking a little on the dust, she moved as quickly as she could, trying her best to ignore her surroundings. The cool air and dim light were stirring up feelings of terror and anguish. The inside of her head began to burn and her eyes began to water. It was as if the pulsing heat seared again in her head. She gasped with remembered pain as an image of a jeweled hand flashed before her.

She had to get out of here. Away from the hand that created the pain. The walls were pressing in on her. She tried to move even faster, stifling the coughing and sneezing that wracked her body and threatened to give her away. She was trying to hold back her rising tide of panic. Where was she? She had to get out of here. She had to warn the others.

"Carter!" The bellow resounded through the channel. She stopped and covered her ears. The noise was painful to hear. They were looking for her--she couldn't let them find her! Were they in the tubes? She scrambled through the tunnel, slipping in her haste to get away.

"Carter! Where the hell are you?"

She froze--it was the Colonel. Where was he? The call sounded frantic, even desperate. She could feel the vibrations from his yell pulsating in her head. He could be in trouble. What if the jeweled hand was tearing out his brain now? She _had_to get to him. Frantically, she pulled herself through, looking for a way out of this labyrinth.

Scrambling, fighting for traction, she scooted along, peering for any sign of an exit. Her head was pounding in time to the frantic pace of her heart. She concentrated on the fact that the Colonel was in trouble; he needed her. How would she find him once she got out of these shafts? Angrily she pushed the question aside. She'd worry about that later. What she needed to do now was to just find him. Find him and save him. The rest of it didn't matter. Not even the god-awful pounding in her brain.

At last she saw a glimmer of light ahead. Heaving a sigh of relief, she slowed her pace, not wanting to alert any guards of her approach.

Suddenly she heard the pounding of feet and the rattle of…of armor? The clatter of metal flashed images of serpent heads on human bodies from somewhere deep in her memory. She froze in the airway, holding her breath. The clamor moved past quickly and she let herself breathe again. Scooting close to the register, she peered outside. No one. This was her chance. She had to get out of there before the serpent guards came back around.

She turned herself around and braced her arms against the tunnel walls. Reaching out with her legs, she kicked against the register until it fell with a resounding clatter on the passageway floor. Wincing at the echo the metal made and the sudden stinging sensation at the bottom of her foot, she slid out of the airway and dropped to the floor. A groan escaped as her left foot hit the floor. A slick line of blood marked a trail as she made her way through the corridors.

She was confused. She had been here before, she was sure of it. She almost knew where she was going. Gray walls, white and black piping lining the passage ceiling. An image of a metal circle flickered in her mind and with it a deep, stabbing agony of pain. She gasped and clutched at the wall to hold herself upright. His brown eyes appeared, urging her to fight past the pain just as before. She pushed the image of the metal circle away and tried to bring her breathing under control__

There it was--a way out of here. A way to find the Colonel. She rushed at the double doors and tried to pry the doors apart. They wouldn't budge. She wanted to bang her fists on the doors in frustration. She turned around, her eyes darting down the various corridors. There had to be another way. Her eyes caught sight of a keypad on the side of the door. Gritting her teeth, she ripped the cover off and yanked at the colored wires inside. Blinding pain seared behind her eyes. She gripped the wires, refusing to let go. The pain was pressing down, flattening, squishing her brain. She fought the tide of anguish and tried to strip the wires.

A bright red light began flashing along the upper edge of the wall. Klaxons reverberated in her head.

"Unscheduled off-world activation!"

She groaned as an array of inexplicable images spun through her mind. Each glimpse brought burning agony that threatened to split open her skull. She couldn't move. She felt herself slide down the wall where she curled into a ball trying to protect her head from the onslaught of burning symbols. She knew he was letting _him_ down--she was failing _him_. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"There she is!"

Hands grasped her arms and tried to pull them away from her head.

"Carter! Look at me!"

Hands gently cradled her face and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She stopped fighting. "Colonel?" she whispered.

"Yeah…that's what it says on my uniform. Somewhere."

She felt fingers brush the hair across her forehead.

"What were you doing, Carter? What's going on?"

"Had to get out of the cell. Help you."

Fingers left a soft caress across her cheek. "You did it. You got out of there."

She could hear a hint of pride as well as exasperation in his voice. She wanted to smile, but it hurt too much to move.

"My head's gonna explode," she whispered.

A pinch on her arm was all she felt and she was oblivious to the perplexed looks exchanged above her as she drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Well my husband didn't buy me the rights for Christmas, so I still don't own anything. Rats!**_

_**Thank you so much to AstraperAspera for her beyond wonderful nit-picking skills. She makes me much better than I am! **_

Migraine

Chapter 8

The first thing she was aware of were the drums pounding a rhythm on the top of her head. Tightening her already closed eyes, she tried to burrow into the downy soft material cradling her aching head. Warm under layers of fresh sheets and soft blankets was a comforting feeling despite the drilling someone was trying to do through her skull.

A low intermittent beeping was tapping cadence somewhere to her right. Her eyelids fluttered, trying to gauge her location. That sound was one she only heard in the infirmary. That certainly begged the question: why was she in the infirmary? She couldn't remember being injured, or being on a mission recently for that matter. Yet the severe headache supported the idea that something unpleasant might have happened to her head. Slowly she stirred in her bed, testing her mobility and for other injuries. The only other discomfort she felt was a slight throbbing in her foot. Trying to relax, she once again closed her eyes, wanting to will away her pain.

Someone cleared a throat to her right. She tilted her head toward the sound. Her lids felt so heavy and she thought perhaps by keeping them shut, it would somehow help shut down the headache. A familiar scent—a mixture of soap, wood, and musk—made her senses tingle. The scent that was Jack O'Neill always threatened to send her intellect into shutdown. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

She gazed at him surreptitiously through half-lidded eyes. The Colonel was sprawled awkwardly in one of the gray infirmary chairs beside her bed, his silver hair glinting in the dim lighting. Her heart tightened; he looked tired. His brow was creased, and it didn't look like he shaved recently. Holy Hannah! Had he spent the night in the chair? Whatever had happened must have been bad if he had stayed by her bedside all night. It hurt to think that she could be the cause of his pain. Longing to stroke his face and smooth away his weariness, and knowing it was impossible, a soft sigh escaped before she could suppress it.

Closing her eyes once again, she tried to pull up any memories that might reveal why she was here. Her mind was a blank. She bit at her lower lip, probing for her missing memories. Anxiety began to build as she realized she couldn't dredge up a thing. The pressure in her head pulsed a little harder. She couldn't help the groan that escaped.

"Come on, Carter. Time to open those baby blues. I know you're awake."

The words were light, teasing, but she could feel the undercurrent of concern in his voice. She turned her face toward him and managed to open her bleary eyes.

"Hey, sir," she managed to croak out.

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Sir? Never thought I'd be happy to hear you say _that_, Carter."

A hot flush rose in her cheeks. His words almost felt like a reprimand. Had she been talking about him in her sleep? Mortified, she closed her eyes and turned away. It wasn't as if she needed reminding that he had been distancing himself from her lately. Still, it hurt.

Her lips and throat suddenly felt so dry. She fumbled for the water bottle on the side table, knocking it to the floor. Her embarrassment was complete. Wishing she could disappear into the mattress, she covered her face with her hands.

A firm tug pulled her hands from her face; long tapered fingers seemed to caress her cheek, and then the water bottle was placed within her grasp. His hands seemed to linger on hers for just a moment before they slipped away. Her heart beat sped up at his gentle touch. She couldn't help herself; her eyes watered slightly and she quickly lowered her lashes to hide her distress, blinking away the tears.

Clicking heels distracted her from her misery, and she raised her head to see the petite redhead quickly making her way across the infirmary. "Janet…" she smiled weakly. "So…when can I get out of here?"

The doctor stopped, stunned. Janet turned toward the Colonel and they shared a grin. For some reason, this irritated her. She only had a headache, for crying out loud!

"That is yet to be determined, Sam. You've been keeping us on our toes for quite awhile. We need to make sure you're out of the woods."

Colonel O'Neill was unsuccessful at hiding a grin at her grimace as the doctor shone a penlight in her eyes.

"Okay, what's going on?" she demanded. "Why am I in the infirmary?"

Janet appeared unfazed by her questions. "What is the last thing you remember, Sam?"

She frowned. "I….I'm not sure. Dad just got recalled by the Tok'ra and I was supposed to be TDY to Area 51 for a couple of weeks." She searched her memory. Nothing. "But what …did I go?"

Her last question held a tinge of panic. Oh, god! The looks exchanged between the Colonel and Janet ratcheted up her anxiety level and made her headache worsen(ed) ever so slightly. She felt sick to her stomach. _What the hell happened to me_

"Sam, you did go on temporary duty to Area 51**…**and you came back to the SGC. You've actually been on several missions since then." Janet's voice was cautiously prodding.

She reached for her head with her fingertips and tried to massage away the growing tension. "How long ago was I TDY?" she whispered.

The Colonel answered quietly, "Eight months."

Her fingers stilled in shock. _Impossible!_ She looked up and met his eyes. She could see concern—worry for her in his chocolate eyes. But there was also strength and confidence radiating at her, letting her know that she would be okay.

"This is actually a good sign, Sam," Janet explained. "This is the first time since you've been rescued that you've been aware of who we are."

She lay back on the gurney and stared up at the ceiling. Half listening as they tried to explain what they knew. She had disappeared not long after her return from temporary duty to Area 51 while she was standing in for Lt. Markson on SG-9 who had come down with the flu. It was only through some lucky intel from a Tok'ra spy that SG-1 had found her in an abandoned prison cell. She had been missing for over three months.

"When you were brought back, it was apparent you had been subjected to a ribbon device. Your brain had severe inflammation, Sam. We're still trying assess any residual effects."

She felt numb. In other words, they were concerned she might have some degree of brain damage. Going through the gate was risky, but had she thought herself immune to the dangers? Certainly this was one scenario she had never considered. What if she wasn't able to do her job? What if the Air Force decided she was no longer fit for duty?

"Sam?"

Haunted by her own fears, she raised her eyes to her friend. "Yeah…I'm here…."

"You're showing a significant step toward recovery. You know who we are and where we are and those are good signs."

"Damn straight, Carter. You know…you had us chasing you all over this base for close to a month. Kept trying to escape."

Mortified, she quickly glanced toward the Colonel. There was a hint of pride and laughter in his voice.

"You may not have remembered much, but deep down you were still Major Samantha Carter." The Colonel grinned at her

His grin gave her a sense of relief. She allowed a small smile in response to his twinkling eyes.

Janet's stern glance at the Colonel was something she couldn't miss. But when Janet turned back toward her, her gaze was full of sympathy. "Sam, I'm sorry, but you've been put on medical hold."

She stared at the two of them in disbelief. After all she'd done for the Air Force, for the program, they would consider discharging her? What had she been through, what kind of state was she still in, that this might be the end of her career? A yawning pit opened in her chest. It hurt to think some unknown doctors and officers would be the ones to determine the outcome of her career.

She felt the Colonel move toward her. "C'mere," he whispered. Strong arms enveloped her in a tight hug. She nestled against his chest, drawing the reassurance she desperately needed that her life was not over.


	9. Chapter 9

_**I still don't own any of the rights to Stargate, yada, yada.**_

_**Thank you again to AstraPerAspera for her comments and suggestions that help me improve and write a better story. I couldn't do it without her.**_

Migraine

Chapter 9

It was a relatively easy escape to the women's locker room. Wanting a shower with her own brand of shampoo and without the probing eyes of the medical staff, she had snuck out of the infirmary. Now she gripped the sides of the sink, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. So far she had been successful at hiding her lightheadedness and the frequency of her headaches from Janet. She didn't find the symptoms significant, merely inconvenient; but she doubted the medical board, or even Janet, would see it that way. She needed to convince everyone that she had recovered from her "ordeal." After all—wasn't she the best judge of how she felt?

After a week in the infirmary she was having a severe case of cabin fever. She found it ironic that her continuing symptoms might have more to do with the stress of her enforced confinement than with the residual effects of the ribbon device. It was just so damned frustrating to have people hovering all the time. Despite how safe and reassuring she found their presence, she was starting to feel stifled. She needed a break from the overprotective tendencies of her teammates and her doctor.

Once the dizziness passed, she headed to her locker. She fingered her nameplate on the locker door. It was new. Not exactly sure how she felt about that, she opened the door. A small smile tweaked her lips as she saw the half-used bottles of shampoos, conditioners and other feminine products lined up neatly on the top shelf. A burst of affection for her guys sprung from her chest; they hadn't given up on her. She chuckled slightly at the thought that one of them must have held on to these highly personal items for her, despite what it may have done to their masculinity.

Using her newly acquired privacy, she took some time in the shower scouring her body for new scars. There were none that she could find. _Guess that's good—only my brain's been damaged_. She had never thought of herself as being overly concerned with her looks, but years before an early mission had left her worrying about accumulated scars. Running her fingertips over a faint white line on her abdomen, she recalled the Colonel's comment about the "sweet little tank top number." The heat rose in her cheeks as she considered the possibility of him hitting on her. _I wish_.

She emerged from the shower to find Janet standing there, foot tapping. Pursing her lips, she refused to feel guilty over what Janet was sure to think of a as a major transgression.

"What?" Her tone was not the least bit contrite.

Janet glared at her. "You scared me to death, Sam. Taking off without letting anyone know where you were headed…it's not a wise move for someone in your condition."

She shrugged off Janet's concerns. "There's nothing wrong with me, Janet. I'm fine. Really. Look…I've been a good little patient this week through all those damned tests and observations." She tried not to sound bitter. "I think I'm at least entitled to a little privacy. You can't keep me locked up in the infirmary forever."

She felt Janet's scrutiny as she moved back to her locker. Once, that hawk-like gaze of a ticked-off Janet Frasier would have left her repentant. Not this time. In fact, she was starting to feel a little ticked-off herself. Pressure pulsed in her temples.

"I'm not going back to the infirmary," she announced quietly. Her viselike grip on the locker door anchored her as another dizzy spell threatened to undermine everything she was doing. "I've had it, Janet. I'm not some science experiment or lab rat. I want my life back."

Janet smiled at her. "Well, you certainly sound more like your old self." That hawk-like gaze was penetrating. "Okay…fine. I'll release you. But no leaving the base—you hear me? You'll have to stay in your quarters here at the SGC." Holding up her hand to quell the protests beginning to erupt, Janet continued. "Just a couple more days, Sam. We're still not sure what happened to you. I need to be cautious. I don't want anything to jeopardize your recovery. Now, any symptoms today?"

"Nothing," she lied. Nothing debilitating, she justified to herself.

Janet stared at her intently. She forced herself to return the gaze steadily. Finally, Janet nodded. "When you finish dressing, come by my office to pick up your orders. General Hammond was able to arrange a place for you on the science teams rather than being transferred to medical hold outside the SGC."

As soon as Janet closed the locker room door, she sagged in relief. She leaned her hammering head against the cool metal lockers. It was simply another necessary step back to work. She knew what she was doing.

Outside the women's locker room door stood a familiar form. He was the only one who'd been missing from her hovering teammates. "Teal'c. When'd you get back?"

The Jaffa bowed his head slightly in greeting. "I was part of the team that was instrumental in your recovery from the goa'uld prison, Major Carter. I have been at the SGC ever since."

She mulled this over. "I don't remember," she confessed quietly.

"Please do not distress yourself over this. Indeed, I must offer my apologies for any pain I may have caused you when you first returned to the SGC."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your confused state led you to believe I was an enemy in service of your captor."

Her eyes watered unexpectedly. How typical of her teammates to feel guilty over something they had no control over. She reached out to touch his arm. "Then I should be apologizing to you, Teal'c. I should have known it was you. I know that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"Regardless, my presence was inhibiting your recovery. Dr. Frasier thought it most prudent if I were to make myself scarce while your mind was given a chance to heal."

"I'm so sorry, Teal'c."

"You have no need to apologize, Major Carter. There was never any doubt that you would remember who we were. I was most happy to do what was necessary to ensure your recovery."

She gave Teal'c a watery smile. "I'm headed to my lab. You wanna join me for some jello in the commissary after?"

"For what purpose are you needed in your lab?"

"I need my laptop. I thought that if I take a look at some of my most recent mission reports it might spark some of my memories."

"I would be most happy to escort you to your lab."

They walked along in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Teal'c spoke again. "I am pleased that you seem to be feeling better, Major Carter."

"Thank's Teal'c. It's been just sort of …weird, ya'know?"

"Indeed." He paused. "If there is any benefit to come out of your ordeal, however, it is the assurance that O'Neill will have no problem passing his next physical examination."

He must have seen the puzzled look on her face because he continued with a slight smile. "Your frequent attempts to escape the SGC had O'Neill running after you on a continuous basis. He refused to let others oversee that particular duty."

Blushing, she ducked her head. She couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through her body. Maybe the Colonel was not as distant as she had believed.

They entered the lab. She hadn't been in here for months. Glancing around, she noted the unusually clean, ordered feel to the room. There were no experiments running, no alien artifacts lying around on the workbench, no slides under the microscope. It hardly seemed familiar--not even the desktop computer was booted up. It didn't _even_ feel like her lab. Maybe it wasn't anymore. Maybe it wouldn't be her lab again until she was returned to full active duty. She frowned. It hardly seemed fair. This was where she belonged. Why did she need to prove that to the powers that be after everything she'd been through—everything she'd done? A small flame of anger lit deep within her and her head pulsed a bit harder.

Where was her laptop? She began yanking out her desk drawers, rummaging through her filing cabinets, rifling the storage closets. It was nowhere to be found. The headache was quickly blossoming into a full-blown drilling into her skull. She gritted her teeth and clutched at the sides of her desk.

"Are you all right, Major Carter?" Teal'c stepped toward her and tried to move her to a chair. She shrugged off his grasp.

"I'm okay. I just need to find my laptop."

"You do not look well. Perhaps we should return to the infirmary."

"No. Just…give me a minute."

Perspiration broke out across her forehead. Bile was rising in her throat, but she refused to succumb to the pain. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm herself--to get a handle on the throbbing in her head. It worked. While the pounding did not recede, at least she felt more in control.

Daniel came bouncing into the lab. Just following his bounding movements made her head ache a little more. She closed her eyes, dropping her head.

"Hey, Sam! Janet's looking for you. Uh…what's going on?"

She grimaced. "Nothing. Just looking for my laptop."

"You don't look too hot."

"Indeed."

Raising her head, she managed a glare. "I'm fine, guys. Really. Daniel, do you know where my laptop is?"

Daniel blinked at her. "Jack put it away for safekeeping."

Her pain was making her exasperated. Could she ever get a straight answer from him? "And where would that be, exactly?"

"His office, I assume." He paused, concern etched over his features. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're going to be sick."

She snapped at him. "I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "Where's the Colonel right now?"

She did not miss the looks exchanged between Daniel and Teal'c. "I think he's in the control room. He's waiting on a report from SG-11."

Willing herself to equilibrium, she stormed off to the control room, Daniel and Teal'c at her heels. She chose to ignore Daniel's continued pleas to head to the infirmary. Right now it was more important to find her missing laptop. She had to have it if she was ever going to get her life back.

The Colonel was standing behind Sergeant Harriman at the dialing computers. She paused, trying to regain some element of composure. _You just__have to work through the pain_. She straightened her shoulders and moved to the Colonel.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Carter. Does the doc know you're up here?"

She sighed. "Not exactly. Look, sir, I'm looking for my laptop and Daniel…."

At that moment, the gate began to spin. As it clanked and whirled she could feel it slamming into her head. She stumbled toward the control panel struggling again to maintain her equilibrium. With the locking of each chevron, she felt the agony crushing her brain. A burning light seared into her forehead. Clasping her head, she began to sink to the floor. The Colonel was suddenly at her side and lifted her into a chair before she could fall completely.

"Carter, stay with me!" he ordered, still holding tightly to both her arms. They were the only thing that anchored her into place.

"Stargate," she moaned. "The symbols… burning…my head."

"Call Frasier," she heard him call out. "Let's get her out of here."

She clutched at the Colonel's shirt as he eased her out of the chair and against his chest. The gate symbols continued to flash through her head, searing, ripping her brain. She groaned, trying to bury her head into his shoulder. She could feel him murmuring soothing words into her ear, but couldn't make them out. It didn't matter; his whispers were like cool breezes on her tortured mind. Sighing against his neck, she began to relax and the anguish retreated.

As they entered the infirmary, she felt someone grab and inject something into her arm. The Colonel gently laid her on a gurney and grasped her hand. She tried to smile as him as he stared worriedly into her eyes. "Janet's going to kill me," she grimaced.

"Ya think?" He exhaled sharply. "Whacha trying to prove, Carter? You trying to be the death of me? The ole ticker can't take much more of this."

"I'm sorry, sir. I just want to be me again."

"You are you, Carter. You've proven that with every damn-stubborn decision you've made since you've been home."

She stared into his eyes, trying to assess the truth of his statement. His cocoa brown eyes exuded confidence, strength, and something indefinable that made her heart flip over. She squeezed his hand and this time, when she smiled, she meant it.

_Note: I'm going to try and finish the story this week, but please don't hold your breath. I need to write a review, quarter exam for my students and finish grading a stack of essays. I promise I'll do it as soon as I can. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**I would like to thank everyone for their patience in waiting for this chapter. Between school, personal illness, and writer's bloc, I found this chapter extremely difficult to write. I hope you all will enjoy it. I would also like to invite all of you S/J shippers to Valenship this Saturday (Feb.9) at Gateworld. I believe it will be on the Sam/Jack Shipper Thread.**_

_**A very special thanks to Mara-anni and AstraPerAspera for their wonderful editing skills and support as I thought I lost this chapter to the computer demons tonight. **_

Migraine

Chapter 10

The curser light on her desktop screen flashed insistently, demanding her attention. Briefly panicking about what it was she was supposed to be doing, she stared at the computer. She shook her head, trying to clear her fuzzy mind, refocusing on the numbers on the report beside the computer. The tightness in her shoulders was the direct result of the frustration she was feeling. Damnit, but numbers were her thing! She dragged her fingers through her hair, wincing as she almost pulled out a clump.

Sighing, she tried to concentrate on the printouts on her desk—trying to organize them into her report. The numbers danced across the page, refusing to be still. She gritted her teeth. Work that used to come so quickly now required so much effort. Not that it was harder; it wasn't--it just took a whole lot longer than it was supposed to.

How would this affect who she was? A medical discharge loomed on the horizon; she couldn't deny it even to herself, although her team tried to assure her that the program needed her. The longer it took the medical review board to issue her discharge orders, the more anxious she became. She was improving, but her inability to recall her imprisonment and the post traumatic stress episodes she still experienced when dealing with the…the...she shook her head. She'd been gallivanting about the galaxy, stepping through it to new planets for years and now she couldn't even think its name without agony-which is what made the discharge inevitable.

Janet never did find a physical cause for the migraines she still experienced. She agreed with Dr. MacKenzie that the headaches were in all probability PTS flashbacks to the torture with the ribbon device. Whenever she came in direct contact with the st…with the device…she still suffered the burning, agonizing headaches. She might be getting better in that she could at least think of the large metallic circle without an embarrassing collapse unlike that horrid day in the control room. But that wasn't exactly going to keep her in the Air Force and certainly not at the SGC.

Whatever the reason, she wasn't exactly getting over it. What made this time different? She should be able to get over this! She had been tortured before, and with a ribbon device. What was wrong with her that she couldn't get over it—move beyond it—put it behind her like she had all those other awful things she'd been through? So much for "Super Sam" who could solve any problem, figure out any solution, fix anything. Anything except herself.

The pencil she hadn't even realized she picked up suddenly snapped in her hand.

Could she stay here and endure the pity of the entire base? Would she be allowed to leave? She didn't want to leave the Air Force—the SGC. She wanted to be the one out there, exploring new planets, being the first to touch and experience new technologies! _That_ was her life, not this paper-pushing, calculation-checking, number crunching existence she had been shoved into. She was getting sick and tired of being told how "valuable" she was to the program--how they "needed" her. This wasn't what she wanted to do. This wasn't who she was…or at least not who she used to be.

Janet…the Colonel…Daniel…Teal'c-- they were all worried about her, she knew. Well, she was fed up with their pity, with their "walking on eggshells around Sam" attitude. Their smiles always seemed forced now, and they were tense around her, as if they were afraid she would suddenly shatter. At one time this would have pissed her off. But getting angry would require energy and she never seemed to have any of that any more. Smiles…laughter…again, too much effort, and really, what was the point? Even the science she had always found so intriguing, so exciting, held little appeal. There was no joy left in her. Maybe it _was_ time to go.

"Carter."

She started at the sound of his voice. Damnit, she hated it when he snuck up on her like that! He didn't enter the lab. His stiff posture hanging in the doorway radiated his tension and in turn ratcheted up her own nervousness.

"Sir."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Gazing at him warily, she watched him move slowly into the room. He kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The news couldn't be good. She wracked her head…had they just returned from a mission? She couldn't remember. Where were Daniel and Teal'c? Had they been hurt?

Her heart began to quicken its pace. She glanced at the Colonel for assurance, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead he cleared his throat.

"Colonel, what's wrong?" She couldn't quite keep the note of alarm out of her voice.

This time his soft brown eyes locked with hers. "Your discharge has come in."

So it was official. Discharged. The tiny spark of hope she didn't even know she kept burning was now extinguished. A chill permeated her being and she laced her fingers tightly to keep them from shaking. _Don't cry_, she chanted to herself. Not in front of _him_. Despite her orders to herself, she could feel tears filling her eyes. She ducked her head and blinked away the tears.

Without looking up, she knew the Colonel was now seated on a stool next to her. A quick glance confirmed he was mirroring her, staring at his tightly clasped hands. His close proximity radiated concern. He made no move to touch her, and she was grateful for that. His comforting touch would give her the excuse to completely break down. If that happened she might never recover. That was unacceptable. No matter what happened, she needed to have his respect.

She was thankful that he didn't bring Daniel and Teal'c with him to the lab. It would have been impossible to keep up the stoic façade with Daniel hovering over her, pity shining from his kind, blue eyes.

"So…what are you going to do?"

She stared at her hands. "I guess I'll go home in a little while. Watch some T.V. I've got to finish this report first."

He sighed. "Carter…" His voice trailed off and she noticed he dropped his head. His voice became quiet. "I'll always be here for you. Always."

Keeping her eyes on her hands, she nodded at his words. She knew he meant those words now, but she was no longer part of his team, no longer able to do field work. Even if she stayed at the SGC, she would soon no longer be a part of his life. It was inevitable. Her spot on SG1 would go to another. Oh, at first they would all make an effort to keep her involved, maybe even include her on team nights. But in time they would become busy with off-world missions, seeking her company less and less. The distance between them would grow until it was as deep as the Grand Canyon.

Catching a sob before it could escape, she turned back to her computer screen and began typing. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to turn around. Her heart was breaking; she had lost her career and her team in one shot. She'd lost _him_, though he would deny it for awhile. Eventually, though, he'd move on too. Why would he want to hang around an old has-been?

"Look, Carter, I won't pretend to understand what's going on inside that genius head of yours. But you don't have to do this alone." She could almost see his grimace as he continued, "Daniel won't let you, anyway. He's pretty stubborn that way."

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Thank you, sir, but I'm okay. It's probably best if I get back to this report."

She felt him stand behind her. _Please don't touch me--I'll break down completely if you do!_ His hesitation was palpable, and in the end he didn't. How could she be so bitterly disappointed when he did as she wished? _I've got to get out of here. I can't think with him so close._

Again, he stopped in the doorway. "Call if you need anything…Sam."

Her heart constricted painfully at the use of her name. Long ago, he had used it easily—before things became…tense…between them. It had been so long since she had last heard him say it, she couldn't even remember when. It hurt to think of those times when things were easier between them, but she couldn't help the thrill that coursed through her even as she thought she might burst into tears.

When she was sure he was finally gone, she grabbed her keys and bolted for the elevator. As the numbers scrolled past, her head began to pound and she just needed to get away from the suffocating pressure of the mountain. It wasn't until she reached the refuge of her house that she finally allowed the wracking sobs she had been holding back to surge out of control.


	11. Chapter 11

_**(Same chapter-revised for one glaring error-sorry! )**_

_**I want to thank all of you for being so patient with me as I try to finish this story. It wasn't supposed to be this long, I swear! One more chapter after this one (I hope). **_

_**I want to thank my betas AstraPerAspera and Mara-anni for their wonderful comments and suggestions. They really keep me on my toes! Speaking of wonderful, AstraPerAspera wrote a beautiful poem based on this fic which she set to original music. If you care to take a look, just pm me. I can't get the link to show up.**_

Migraine (Chapter 11)

Biting the inside of her lip, she grabbed another storage box and carried it out of her office to the living room. Resisting the temptation to throw the box was difficult, but she managed to place it with the others. She had decided it was time to pack away the remnants of her previous life and move on. It was hard not to feel bitter about her discharge from the Air Force. Yes, she understood the reason--she was still suffering migraines and flashbacks; it was possible she always would. The Air Force couldn't afford to have an officer in the field that might suddenly freeze, unable to act. But damn it, why couldn't they have given her more time?

She headed back to the office, angry with herself for wallowing in the past. It was over and done with, for heaven's sake! Move on! She clenched her fists. Just easier said than done. Hence the remodeling plans for the office--it was the way to disconnect from her old life. So the office computer had been boxed up, the shelves and closets cleared out, and the bookshelves had been emptied and taken apart. The only electrical outlet on the chosen wall had been dismantled. The room had been totally cleared out in anticipation of the demolition and construction she was planning.

She tried to visualize the newly remodeled pool room. The only problem was her musings continued to include a tall, silver-haired figure who had no business in her dreams. Blinking, she wondered why she continued to belabor that point, to continue to torture herself with the impossible—he was no longer part of her life and the sooner she accepted it, the better off she would be.

Hesitating only a moment, she lifted her fist and struck it through the sheetrock. She was surprised at how easily her clenched hand decimated the wall. The satisfying crunch of drywall crumbling to dust under the assault of her bare hands gave her a sense of power, a level of control that had been lost to her.

Now that there was a huge hole in the wall, she was committed to yet another huge project. So what if this was the fifth project she had started in as many weeks? If she didn't finish it, whose business was it but her own? She needed to know that she was in control here-- where outside these walls, choices had been taken from her.

An insistent pounding on her front door interrupted her work. Annoyed with herself for almost cowering behind the door, she held her breath. It was probably one of the guys. Again. They obviously still felt obligated to continue to try and check on her. One day the knocks would stop. Well she wasn't going to wait around for their pity parties, or try to hang on to something they didn't want to do in the first place.

When the pounding finally stopped and she heaved a sigh of relief. She sneaked into the front room and peaked through the curtains at her front porch. No sign of anyone. Squashing down a flare of despair, she told herself it was for the best. Now she could get back to work without worrying that one of the guys might break down her door. She allowed a tiny smile as she thought of how Teal'c could do it without a moment's hesitation or effort.

Catching sight of the bookshelf planks, she decided they needed to go outside for the haulers. She grabbed a jacket for protection against the cold winter air and pulled up as many boards as she could carry. The wind caused her to stagger slightly as she stepped out the side door so she made sure she had a good grip on the boards before stepping around the garage to dump the stack.

"Carter."

Crap! What the hell was he doing here? She had almost run right into him! She eyed him suspiciously. He was standing too damned close, a small grin on his face. He looked so smug, thinking he had finally cornered her. _We'll see about that. How would he feel about all these boards landing on his feet?_

"Colonel."

He raised an eyebrow. Briefly wondering how long he had been practicing that Teal'c maneuver, she shifted the boards in her arms. Without a word, he tugged half the boards from her and stepped aside as she made to shove her way past him. In spite of her best effort to ignore him, the Colonel followed close on her six.

"You've been avoiding us."

She neither confirmed nor denied his statement. Ignoring him, she dusted her hands on her jeans and headed back to the house. The Colonel continued to dog her trail, further irritating her.

She gritted her teeth. Why was he doing this? Just as she was at a point where she thought she could accept his…their loss, he had to show up and rub salt in the wound, opening it so it would fester again. Well, there was no way she was going to let that happen. Not bothering to refrain from slamming the door, she waited for the satisfying sound of it closing in his face. It didn't come. When she turned to look, he had his foot literally in the door. Damn, he was fast.

"May I come in?"

"No…I'm busy."

"You're going to have to let me in eventually."

She folded her arms across her chest. "And why's that?"

He leaned in so close she could feel the warmth of his body. She shivered and couldn't help the little flutter in her stomach as she felt his breath as a gentle caress across her cheek.

"Because I'll just camp out here on your front yard until you do. I've got field equipment, ya know."

She gave an exasperated sigh. He would do it, too. Even if she called the police, there would be uncomfortable questions about why an Air Force colonel was harassing his former second in command.

"Fine. You can come in. For a minute." She stressed the word minute.

She turned abruptly and headed back to the office, not waiting for him to follow. Silently she fumed at his intrusion into her life.

"Whoa! What happened in here?"

"I'm doing some remodeling."

"Home demolition, maybe," he muttered. "Someone's been watching too much DIY lately, eh Carter?"

"What do you want, _sir_?"

It was a deliberate dig, and she couldn't help the flare of pleasure at his wince at the use of that word.

"I've…we've been worried about you. We haven't heard from you, you don't answer our calls, answer the door. We…I need to know you're okay."

"I'm okay. Now you can go. Okay?" She couldn't help the bitter tinge of her words.

"No, it's not okay! I'm not leaving. I just got here."

She glared at him; he stood there refusing to budge. His chin was tilted up in challenge as he rocked back on the heels of his feet.

Fine. Whatever. He could do as he pleased. She didn't care. She began yanking out chunks of drywall, trying to ignore the flicker of hope that he would stay. Why was she torturing herself this way? He wasn't going to hang around with someone so completely out of her mind that she was literally destroying her own house. What an idiot she was, choosing to dive heart first into misery.

It was better if she just focused on the drywall. This stuff had to be old. Normally the dust would be minimal, but this was leaving a fine layer all over the place and she suppressed a cough. It caught her completely off-guard when she heard the ripping of drywall beside her. She glanced over and caught the Colonel pulling drywall too. Her face must have reflected her shock, because he shrugged and said, "You look like you could use some help."

The two of them worked in silence, taking only a few minutes to pull out the sheets. They carried out the large pieces and stacked them against the garage. Next the two by fours were pounded out and stacked outside. Despite her initial misgivings, it felt good to be working with him again. She groaned to herself. How pathetic could she be?

It wasn't long before they stood side by side staring at the vast space they had created. The Colonel turned toward her and grinned. "You going to leave that there, Carter?" he asked pointing at the cable wire sticking up through in the voided space.

Rolling her eyes, she headed to the basement with the Colonel following close behind. His continued proximity was a little nerve-wracking, an invasion of her personal space. It certainly didn't seem as if he was trying to distance himself from her.

She tried to discern any pity behind his actions as they moved downstairs. His stance was confident, authoritative. His eyes were warm, even affectionate. Confused by his unexpected demeanor, her steps faltered. He threw her a questioning look as he reached to pull open the crawl space where the cable wires be found. She shrugged and allowed him to open the access way.

He turned to her with a slow grin. "Ladies first."

She scrambled into the tiny hole and flicked the light switch. A small popping sound erupted and the space remained dark. "Great," she muttered. She called out to the Colonel, "Could you grab a flashlight off the workbench? The bulb is out."

"You betcha"

No sense waiting. She crept along the dirt floor, taking care to avoid the overhead beams. She shivered in the cool air, feeling slightly uneasy though she wasn't sure why. She hadn't been afraid of the dark since she was two, for cryin' out loud! Get a grip! As she felt along for the cable splitter, she found that her hands were beginning to shake. A fine sheen of sweat broke out all over her body and a headache was beginning in the base of her skull.

A sense of dreadful urgency swept over her as she began to pull down the cable. She had to hurry and get out of this dark space. Desperately she tugged at the line. Unexpectedly, she felt movement behind her and she turned quickly, bringing up arms in a defensive position. A bright light flashed in her eyes. Burning agony spiked through her forehead, and she couldn't stop her scream. The beam was searing into her head, ripping out her brain. She had to get away, get out of this prison…

"Sam! Sam!"

The distant call drifted through the burning arc. The familiar tones became a lifeline that she clutched, using it to fight her way through the pain.

Strong hands clasped her arms. The grip was not painful, not threatening. She stopped her fight for escape and felt herself be gently pulled her into a tender embrace. The paralyzing pain subsided, but she was still shaking from fear. Her heart pounded in her chest and head still ached, but her uncertainty about what had happened terrified her.

"Where am I?"

The arms tightened around her. "In your house-the crawl space."

She struggled to reconcile the feelings of pain with the security of his hold. As she began to realize where they were, her discomfiture made her pull away from him. "I need some meds," she mumbled, in a hurry to put some space between them.

Making her way to the access, she quickly climbed out and headed to the kitchen. The meds would help her combat the headache that still remained, but she needed something to fight her emotions. She quickly swallowed the pills and leaned tiredly against the countertop. Her time on medical hold had not been easy. The constant flashbacks and migraines had already diminished her in the eyes of the SGC; her embarrassing weakness had been made apparent to the entire command, and now she had gone and had a mental breakdown in front of the Colonel in her own home. Her chest tightened as she anticipated his certain departure from her life.

As he joined her in the kitchen, she braced herself for the hurt that was sure to come. But instead of grabbing his jacket and heading toward the door, he leaned against the counter next to her. She stole a tentative look in his direction, not sure as to why he was still in her house.

Expecting to see pity and censure in his eyes, she was surprised by the ferocity of his demeanor. The intensity of his stare caught her completely by surprise; there was no pity in his passionate brown eyes; they were filled with confidence, strength, and faith--all directed toward her.

"You've been running away."

She didn't deny his statement.

"It's time to stop, Sam. Come back to us."

Shaking her head, she turned away. "I don't know if I can."

He reached out and turned her back to him. "I'm not just talking about the SGC. You've been running from your friends, hiding from those who care about you." He brushed the bangs away from her eyes and leaned in close. She could feel her heart pounding erratically at his proximity. "Stop hiding."

"I can't." She turned and stared out the kitchen window. "I can't do it anymore. Look what just happened and it was only a flashlight. I thought I was back in that prison cell, being tortured. It was the same when I was still at the SGC. You have no idea what it was like in the labs, the flashbacks I had every time the alarms sounded."

"I think I might have some idea," he remarked dryly.

A wave of guilt passed over her. Iraq, she berated herself. He would be the one person who could understand what she was going through, but she had refused to see it. Her feelings of helplessness had caused her to push everything away in an effort to protect herself from hurt and pity. Even now, the feeling of loss still threatened to overwhelm her.

"Ya know, you survived a situation that would've destroyed any number of soldiers, and you continued to fight back when you thought were still captured. Even in the basement, you were ready to attack me in self-defense. That's who you are-a fighter. You can't let this thing beat you now."

She wanted to believe him; it was hard not to under his intense scrutiny. His hand wiped away a smudge of drywall dust from her nose. But instead of removing his hand, he gently caressed her cheek. Leaning into his touch was instinctive and she saw a small smile light his face.

Butterflies flitted in her stomach as he leaned in touching his forehead to hers. "Stop hiding from those who care about you." he whispered.

Tears pricked her eyes at the devotion she felt as he cradled her cheek. She smiled tremulously and he gently lifted her chin. His lips brushed against hers in a tender kiss that made her feel completely cherished. How could she ever have thought he would leave her behind?

She leaned against his chest, relishing the security of his embrace. "Stop hiding," she muttered quietly. Could it be that simple? Maybe the problem was not that they were leaving her behind, but that she had been running away. If so, could she do it? Stop running? The Colonel…Jack believed she could. His conviction that she could beat this thing warmed her spirit and gave her peace she hadn't felt in months. She lifted her head to smile at him.

"I'm ready to fight."

He lifted her off her feet in a fierce hug. That was all the answer she needed.


	12. Chapter 12

Migraine

_**I wish to thank several people for their help in seeing me through my first fanfiction. Firs,t to Seahen for her valuable insight into Air Force procedures. Second, to all the wonderful people who stuck with this story and those who left such encouraging reviews. Finally, a heartfelt huge thank you to Mara-Anni and AstraPerAspera for their magical red pens, who helped keep this story on track and true to my original intent.**_

Migraine

Chapter 12

The entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain complex had never seemed so far as it did today. The bitterly cold air whipped through her coat as she made her way across the parking lot. Perhaps she had never noticed how long it took to cross the blacktop because she had been thinking of a project or an upcoming mission. Today she didn't have any of those things to keep her mind occupied.

The icy air was not the reason for the shiver she tried to repress. Growing anxiety ate at her as she moved closer to the perimeter guard shack. It wasn't supposed to be this hard, returning to the mountain. Her military persona had been a shield, working much the same as her motorcycle visor. She could pull it down whenever personal detachment was necessary to get a job done or to protect her emotional psyche. Without it, she felt as exposed as if she were walking through the drifting snow in her skivvies.

She desperately tried to keep her teeth from chattering as she trudged toward the gate entrance. The whole scene was bizarrely reminiscent of Lancelot's charge in _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_. No matter how far she walked, she never seemed to be any closer to the point of entry. It came as quite a shock, when suddenly, she was there.

Fumbling to find her ID card in her backpack, she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Dammit, she should have had it ready! She was relieved to see the guard didn't notice her nervous faux pas; he simply gave a perfunctory nod at her ID card and returned to his paperwork. She hurried to catch the open elevator.

Her stomach clenched as the elevator began its descent. She leaned back against the wall and exhaled. The filtered air tasted stale, leaving an unpleasant feel in her mouth. There really was no reason to be nervous about returning to the SGC. She was heading back to a field of scientific study that had been her life. She should be bubbling with excitement; instead she found herself tense, wondering if she could handle the vague images of her captivity produced by the SGC's dark corridors. Oh crap, what if she had a flashback here and ended up hurting someone? She hadn't considered that until now.

Bringing up images of Daniel, Teal'c, and Jack relieved her tension momentarily. Their unconditional support had been the deciding factor in her return to the program. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself she was still the same old Sam Carter the guys believed in-a kickass soldier who had faced and defeated hordes of enemy aliens.

"Welcome back, Major…I mean, Dr. Carter," the airman stuttered as she checked in with the watch. Afraid that her voice might waver, she gave him a tight smile and nodded her thanks.

God, that had hurt. Swallowing hard, she pushed aside the heavy weight that had settled in her gut. Waiting for the second elevator that would take her into the SGC, she felt her hands begin to sweat. How long would it take before those little slips wouldn't tear her heart out? She wiped her hands on her pants as she moved through the open doors. She had been so sure that this is what she wanted, but as she approached the underground facility her doubts pounded in her chest. A small pressure point began to pulsate in her head. Not now-she couldn't be having a migraine now when she was so close to being herself again!

How could she think she could handle being back? A pair of piercing brown eyes seeped unbidden into her thoughts. Eyes that conveyed confidence in her abilities, eyes that had absolute belief in her knack to find a solution to any problem-they surrounded her in warm affection. She began to feel the cold hole in her gut begin to warm despite the splinters of hopelessness that lingered.

As the fear began to ebb, her thoughts were still focused on Jack O'Neill. He had become her anchor in the stormy world after her discharge. His unwavering gaze in her mind was a constant reminder of his affectionate regard. Envisioning those eyes provided reassurance that she was heading where she needed to be-to be Carter again.

Carter was someone who knew what she wanted, who didn't need anyone holding her hand. But it had been so nice to feel his hand gripping hers in the winter chill. Jack had invited her to a semi-pro hockey game a few nights ago, and the invitation had not included Teal'c or Daniel. She had been delightedly shocked with his invitation. They had rarely gone anywhere alone and then not since…well, not for a long time.

She smiled softly as she remembered the evening. The stadium seating had been very tight with barely enough room for his long legs. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Jack O'Neill had her senses tingling. When his arm slipped around her shoulders and tugged her closer to his side, thinking of the game became virtually impossible. She had tried to tell herself he was just stretching his arms in the closed-in space, but when he began to trace lazy designs on her arm, she froze. It wasn't until she heard him whisper relax in her hair that she smiled and allowed herself to lean against him.

He held her hand on the drive home, and then as he walked her to her door. Disappointed when he didn't accept her invitation for coffee, but somewhat relieved as well, she had understood when he said he had an early mission briefing. Nervously stammering her thanks for the evening, she was shocked when he tilted her chin up and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. With a quiet "Sweet dreams, Sam," he was gone.

The memory of that soft kiss still made her heart do strange little flip flops. Although she hadn't seen Jack since the game, thoughts of that evening continued to plague her. She couldn't stop thinking of the way his eyes would seek her out with an intensity that made her heart beat just a bit faster.

The doors slid open as the elevator came to a stop. She blinked, trying to get her bearings. The vision of those chocolate brown eyes relieved her churning trepidation. With a deep breath, she exited the elevator and headed down the corridor.

"May I help you, Dr. Carter?"

She looked up at a young lieutenant. "No, I'm just…" she waved vaguely at the door.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's the SG teams locker room. The civilian locker room is down the passageway."

She could feel the flames in her cheeks. Of course her old locker had been cleaned out months ago and assigned to someone else. Gulping down her sudden nausea, she was acutely aware she was no longer military, nor a member of SG1. Without even thinking, she had headed instinctively to change into BDU's just as if she were gearing up for a mission. The bitterness she had thought long gone again threatened to consume her. She gritted her teeth and muttered an embarrassed apology before moving on her way.

Doubts hammered in her head as she made her way to the science labs. Would she ever fit in this place again? She always knew where she stood as an Air Force officer, bound by rules and regulations that governed her life. Others might find this kind of lifestyle rigid and uncompromising, but to her it was liberating. It gave her life a structure that she had felt missing since her mother had died. It was so damn hard! How could she know how to react without the shield of her military career? This unknown quantity left knots in her stomach.

"Sam! Glad to have you back" Bill Lee enthusiastically shook her hand. "You're looking great!"

She returned his handshake awkwardly, still feeling unbalanced. "Uh, thanks Bill. It's nice to be back."

"We sure could use your expertise. It hasn't been the same around here without you, though your young prodigy Lieutenant Hailey has been doing great work on SG1. That little blonde dynamo is practically a Carter-clone!"

She stood silently in the doorway as Dr. Lee continued to babble, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes turned her way. She knew about Hailey; Colonel O'Neill had consulted her on the capabilities of the tiny lieutenant to see if she was ready for a place on SG1. Really wanting to scream that that was her spot, that she was the military scientist for the team, she had instead professionally discussed Hailey's strengths and weaknesses and how she would fit in the team dynamic. Only her shaking hands had betrayed her inner turmoil, but he had noticed and Colonel O'Neill became simply Jack.

He took her hands and merely held them, holding her gaze steadily. She managed to gulp a few breaths, and feeling more under control, nodded at him. He reached up and gently brushed her bangs from her eyes.

"I'm here, Sam. Always."

She had managed to gulp a few breaths, and stared at the comforting circles he was tracing with his thumbs on her hands. His strong hands sheltered her from her fears, made her feel protected from the chaos around her. Feeling more under control, she had managed to draw a steadying breath and nodded at him to show she was ready to continue.

Drawing strength from the memory, she sat down at the computers and tried to get to work analyzing the energy readings from a recent artifact brought back by SG-11. The morning dragged as she tried to ignore the whispers in the background. Her neck muscles were tightening under the strain of the constant scrutiny. As she stared at her monitor, she could feel all the eyes in the lab watching her every move. Were they waiting for her to screw up? The pressure began to press against the top of her skull, but she didn't dare take out her pills while she was under continuous observation.

"Hey, Sam." Janet's face appeared over her computer monitor. "Time for lunch. Let's go."

Relieved to have a reason to leave the lab, she stuffed her pills in her pocket and quickly followed the petite doctor to the commissary. They grabbed their lunches and Janet led her to a secluded corner.

"Okay," the redhead began, stabbing a fork into her salad. "What's going on?"

She toyed with her silverware. "What do you mean? Everything's fine."

Janet snorted. "Fine, my foot. You're down-right pale. Headache?"

"A little. I'm okay."

"Hmmm. Take your medication?"

"I was about to when you came in." She reached into her pocket, removed the pills and quickly swallowed them with a gulp of water. Janet nodded in satisfaction.

"You need to make sure you're taking it as soon as you feel a headache setting in. Don't wait for your head to explode."

Janet turned back to her salad. "So how is your first day back going?"

"Fine, I guess. It's a little harder than I expected."

Janet looked her straight in the eye. "You knew it wouldn't be easy, Sam."

Sighing, she pushed her plate away. "I know, I know. It's just that…it's what I did. I guess I expected working in the labs to be like what it was before my...mishap."

"It's not?" Janet gently asked.

"No. It's like I'm under a microscope, everyone watching my every move! I think they're waiting for me have a seizure or something, like I'm the featured attraction in some sort of freak show."

She fingered the ice in her glass and then looked across the table at Janet. "I miss my team," she whispered. "But they're not mine, are they? They're Hailey's."

"I wish I were with SG1," she continued in a whisper. "That's where I belong. Out there, I always knew what was expected of me, what the team needed. Here, I don't know who I am!"

Janet stared at her, disbelief clearly etched on her face. "Oh, honey, Lieutenant Hailey may be part of SG1 now, but those men haven't given up on you. And you are still you! This is where you belong. The science, the technology—you always wanted to know how things worked. You just need to give yourself a chance to find that excitement for discovery again. It'll come!" "

A voice over the PA system interrupted their conversation. "Dr. Frasier, report to the gate room!"

"We're not done with this, Sam. I'll talk to you later."

She tried to smile. "Thanks, Janet. I'm glad you're here."

A voice over the PA system interrupted their conversation. "Med team, report to the gate room!"

"We're not done with this, Sam. I'll talk to you later." Janet left the dining room rapidly as the PA continued to call for medical staff.

Itching to head to the control room, she forced herself to head back to her computer station. In the past, she would have run immediately to the gate room to see what she could do to help; it would have been expected by the duty staff for Major Carter to solve their problems. But now she didn't belong there. She was only part of the science support team now, and it wasn't her place to stick her nose into base operations.

Someone had been hurt off-world; that would be the only reason to page Janet to the gate room. Fear clenched at her stomach. SG1 was off-world. Had they been in an accident? Under attack? She needed to get into the control room!

The pressure that had been pushing against her skull suddenly became pulsating pain. She had to make sure they were okay. But with each step closer to the gate, she felt the force increase, feeling as if her head would explode at any moment.

It was so dark. She could feel her heart begin to race and her breathing quickened as the lights along the wall began flashing. As they flickered on and off, and she froze as she felt herself move towards the prison cell of her nightmares. Burning pain in her forehead halted her progress. Leaning against the wall, she tried to orient herself. She was not in that prison cell; she in the SGC.

Pieces of dialogue filtered over her as she fumbled through the passageways. One of the SG teams was in trouble, severe injuries, problem with the iris. A team needed help. She forced herself to keep moving, fighting against the hammering agony in her head to reach the control room.

All around her, Stargate command personnel were arguing about what was needed to fix the iris. Focusing on the keyboard, she forced herself to step forward. She centered her attention on the sounds of their words, trying to keep herself grounded in the moment. With her head pounding and sweat pouring down her back, she made it to the dialing computer and began to search through the codes that kept the iris locked.

Why don't they open it manually? She glanced up through the safety glass to the gate room. Sergeant Siler and his crew were there, desperately trying to crank the iris open, but to no avail. She bent her head back over the monitor, scanning, until she caught the problem. Quickly rerouting an old sub-routine, there was loud cheer when suddenly the iris opened, revealing the established wormhole.

She didn't hear the call made for the team to come through. As the iris opened, she stood and leaned her head against the glass, holding her breath that she was in time. Her stomach dropped when she realized it SG1 that came running through with Teal'c dragging Colonel O'Neill over his back through the event horizon. She gasped through her pain, and raced down the corridor to the gate room.

When she arrived, the nursing staff was lifting Jack onto a gurney, Janet hovering over her patient. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was afraid the security personnel would hear it as she pushed through. What if she had been too late, trapped by her own demons? What if her fears had cost the team the time needed to save him? Desperate to know he was okay, she pressed her way to the ramp.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his face—pale and clammy, his eyes clenched tightly shut against the pain. When his eyes blinked open, agony was etched in his features. She desperately wanted to erase his pain, and unconsciously her hand snaked out to clasp his hand.

"Carter? Whatcha doin'?"

Her hand hovered in mid-air for just a moment before she gripped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling it back. She tried to smile at him, but it felt more like a grimace. "Trying to watch your six, sir."

"Ah! Feels like old times," he grinned. "Arg! Doc! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Just trying to stop the bleeding, Colonel. Wouldn't want anyone to have to clean up your mess later."

Daniel peered over the doctor's shoulder at Jack. "Good thing the iris opened when it did," he remarked. He turned to Sergeant Siler. "Thanks, Siler. Those Veslisians weren't too fond of Jack."

Teal raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Sergeant Siler waved his wrench as he headed towards the blast doors. "It wasn't me, Dr. Jackson. The manual crank was stuck. It was Major Carter who got the iris open."

All heads turned toward her. Her cheeks heated up, and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. "Doctor," she corrected quietly.

"That's great, Sam!" Daniel enthused. "You can see how much we need you here at the SGC!"

She couldn't help her small smile at Daniel's passionate remarks. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up to catch Jack's watching her intensely. She returned his gaze steadily, feeling her smile grow as his brown eyes communicated his pride in her.

Suddenly he yelped. "Crap, Doc! Quit poking me!"

"Just a flesh wound," Janet proclaimed. "Let's get him to the infirmary."

The gurney moved abruptly toward the infirmary. Staring at the Stargate for a moment before heading after the team, after Jack, she no longer felt afraid. A warm feeling spread through her heart as she acknowledged that she was still the same person she had always been. Her ordeal might have left some physical and mental scars that she would always have to deal with, but it didn't change who she was. She had truly found her way back home.


End file.
